


Greed in All Forms

by thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic



Series: Relative Innocence [10]
Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Case Fic, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-17 05:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14181462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic/pseuds/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic
Summary: Some people say never run a business with your family. Veronica is learning that the hard way as she tries to start a business with her new husband, who is keeping secrets from her again, and his sister, whose hacking skills just might get them all in trouble again.Someone's stealing money from Heather Duke's company, and more than one of her accountants has met an untimely death.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

“Um... excuse me? I think I need... um... a detective.”

Enid was not in the mood to humor any pranksters today. She was tired of people trying to make a joke of their business—non-existent as it might be—and would just as soon smack the next idiot who tried. Besides, she was in the middle of a marathon and did not wish to be disturbed for any kind of joke right now.

“No, you don't, because if you were really in need of our services, you'd know why and would not say you needed a detective as we are much more than such a thing and so turn around, march your juvenile little ass out the door, and do let it hit you as you leave.”

“Oh, no, you don't understand,” the man began again, and she glowered at her screen, refusing to acknowledge his existence. “I was sent here. On a recommendation. And I do need help.”

Enid blew some of her hair out of her face. “I can tell that much without even looking at you, but I can pretty much guarantee you're in the wrong place, and furthermore, you're irritating me.”

“I know I have the address right. I copied it down just as I was told, put it in the GPS, and had it guide me here. I was a little confused by the address and the sign, but this is where I'm supposed to be, and I don't think she would have made a mistake like that. It's not like her. Not at all.”

“That suggests to me that 'she,' whoever 'she' may be, sent you here as a prank, and again, so not in the mood. You didn't even bring me coffee, which is dreadful etiquette, and now that you have completely exhausted my patience, you should go.”

“I can't. She'll kill me. She already thinks this is my fault, even though it can't be,” he said, and Enid rolled her eyes. Desperate was a good look on no one. “Please. I need to see the detective.”

Enid shook her head. “There's no one here but me, and you have your answer. Do I need to try giving it to you in another language? There's always Elvish—by which I mean Sindarin, I never mastered any of the others, and calling myself a master of that is a stretch—Klingon, or Simlish.”

“Um, as tempted as I would be to hear you speak Klingon, I really do need to talk to someone about... um... a sensitive matter, and if you would please at least make me an appointment... I just... I can't go back empty-handed. Really, I'm surprised she hasn't come here and taken over herself yet, but she probably will. She's very... hands-on.”

“And I'm sure you enjoy that very much—or maybe not, I shouldn't assume—but I've already told you where you stand and you should just accept that.”

“I told you. I can't. I really need that appointment, or Ms. Duke will fire me.”

Enid tried not to react to that. Shit. She'd thought this guy was making all that up, and she was completely rude about it, too. If this guy actually did know Heather, this could be very, very bad. She leaned back in her chair, taking her first look at him.

And kicked herself all over again. He was somewhere between adorkable and outright gorgeous, maybe a bit of almost a hidden threat like Clark Kent (but seriously, the glasses didn't fool anyone, did they?) and his eyes were right up there with her brother's in terms of intensity and just plain beautiful.

Well, at least she hadn't looked before. She'd have made twice the fool of herself if she had. She didn't do real life people well, and attractive ones just made it worse.

“If you really work for Heather, you'd better prove it,” Enid said. “We don't take referrals from just anyone.”

“Oh, right,” he said, giving her an awkward smile. He dug into his bag and took out a tablet, typing on the screen. He pulled something up on it and held it out to her. “Here.”

She stood, taking the tablet from him and wishing she was not so short. She should change her chair height, but then the desk would be all wrong.

“Okay, screw you,” she said. “Who the hell put you up to this?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Was it Jay? If it was my brother, I'm going to kill him.” She turned toward the offices and the elevator. “You hear me, Jay? I swear, I will murder you for this.”

“Um... I'm sorry. What just happened?”

“You heard me,” she said, shoving the tablet back at him. “Who the hell sent you here with those fake cosplay pictures of you as Tuxedo Mask? Hmm? I think letting the door hit you on the way out is too kind a response.”

He went bright red. “Oh, shit. That wasn't what I meant to show—that's not even supposed to be—oh, God. How did that even—shit.”

He frantically tapped on the screen, looking like he was trying to delete all the photos. He pulled up a different app. “This. I swear this is what I was showing you. I don't—I would never—I don't—I don't cosplay. No. Never. I deny all such things.”

Enid just shook her head. “Sure thing, buddy. And I'm supposed to believe that?”

“No, I—”

“Giles,” Duke said, and he jerked to attention. “I thought I told you to make sure they had the files. What the hell are you doing?”

“Losing the roll to the gatekeeper, apparently,” he answered. “Um... She's more fearsome than she looks, Ms. Duke.”

“What? Me? I'm a teddy bear, right, Heather?” Enid asked, adding a bunch of fake innocence to her tone and expression. She'd have the googly eyes if she was animated. “Or maybe a quaggan. I might be a pink one. A pink pirate one, though.”

“God, I don't even want to know,” Duke said. “Where is Veronica?”

“Out with McNamara and her kids,” Enid answered. “Which I thought you knew about.”

Duke sighed. “Fine. Where is your brother? I have a damned case for you, and it had better be solved quickly.”

* * *

Veronica saw the car outside the office and grimaced, knowing she did not want to see Heather Duke this morning. She was about socialed out from talking to Heather and her gaggle of kids all morning, since they were all kind of perky, like an unholy conspiracy of happiness on steroids that made Veronica want to run and yet they were all so... nice it was so hard to find a reason to leave.

And if it was Duke and her kids, Veronica would have said they'd done it on purpose, but it was McNamara, and she didn't seem to be aware of how unnatural it was they were all so perky.

They could be putting on an act for their mother. That would not surprise Veronica at all. Sometimes it seemed like disappointing McNamara was like kicking a puppy, so... yeah. Her kids probably didn't show her half their real emotions.

That was a scary thought, wasn't it?

Veronica steeled herself and walked inside the door. She couldn't avoid Duke forever. 

Everyone turned back to look at her, and she forced herself not to turn and run at the look on Duke's face. 

“There you are,” Duke said. “I swear, if this is how you run your business, it will be in the ground within a month.”

They were already so in the red it wasn't funny, and Veronica didn't even have the actual numbers because JD refused to tell her exactly how much he'd spent on any of this, the building, the furnishings, or the advertising. If not for Bud Dean's money, they couldn't have started it, and it was also the only reason they still had one to speak of after this long without a single damned case.

“Nice to see you, too, Heather. Why are you here?”

“I have a case,” Duke said. “And I sent this one over to start the discussion, but he couldn't even convince Enid he worked for me, and your husband and you were nowhere to be found.”

Veronica's stomach twisted up. She turned to Enid. “He's really not back yet? Again?”

Enid shook her head guiltily even though it wasn't her fault at all. “No. I thought he was here, but I just checked upstairs. He left in the middle of the night again?”

“Trouble in paradise already?” Duke asked, folding her arms over her chest. “Exactly why did you get married again? He did agree he was staying when he came back, didn't he? Or was that just wishful thinking on everyone's part?”

Veronica glared at her. “His nightmares have been worse the last few nights. He woke me a few times, they were that bad, but if he doesn't, he... he gets up and leaves so he won't. He's usually back by now, though. He hasn't run off and left, thanks so much for asking, Heather.”

She absolutely, resolutely was not saying anything else about the state of her marriage as it currently was. JD had come back, they'd gone ahead with a small wedding, and things were as fine as the two of them could expect, at least for their honeymoon.

Coming back and trying to settle in again, that seemed to be what set him off again, but he wasn't discussing his dreams with her, even if she shared her nightmares with him.

“Just tell us about the case.”

“What, I don't even get to use that conference room I helped decorate? What kind of client do you think I am?” Duke demanded, arms folded over her chest.

“The kind we accidentally spill slushies on,” Enid told her brightly, smiling like it would break her face. “Feel free to take the elevator to floor two. A representative will be with you shortly.”

“Don't push it,” Duke warned her. “Giles, get in the damned elevator already.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, running over to push the button for her and hold the door open. “After you, Ms. Duke.”

Duke snorted, stabbing the button with her finger and letting the doors close behind her.

Enid nudged Veronica with a quaggan. “I'm sure he'll show up in the middle of the meeting just to piss you off. It would be so very Jay.”

“Yeah.”

“And on the bright side, I'm sure you'll get to hear just how stupid I was this morning when you go up there.”

Veronica frowned. “What, you said something else to bait Heather?”

“Oh, no. I just... I thought that assistant of hers was here to play a prank and yeah... I so win the prize for rudeness and then some. It's awesome. If he wasn't so terrified of Duke, I'd have lost us the job. I win again.”

Veronica just shook her head, forcing herself toward the elevator this time. She may as well know what was going on with Heather.

* * *

“Someone is stealing money from my company,” Heather said as soon as Veronica came in the room. She saw no point in waiting, even if Giles flinched at her words. “I haven't been able to figure out who, though I naturally considered my ex, as he was less than pleased with what he got in our settlement, but he hasn't had access to the company in some time.”

Veronica frowned. “I thought you had the kids by—”

“Do not even bother saying it. I was never that... desperate. True, he was basically around for one reason and one only, but I didn't have to pay for some random idiot's genetic material to get what I wanted.”

Giles' face flamed red. “Um, Ms. Duke, are you sure you want me present for this? I know you said you wanted the accounting files, but I am not so sure you want me to witness this. Um...”

“Shut up,” Duke ordered, and he slumped down in his chair. She focused on Veronica. “I wanted to keep this internal, but at this point, there are very few people I trust in the company. Giles is one of the few, though you should probably start by eliminating him.”

“What? I didn't—I'm the one who brought the theft to your attention. And it is a bit clever and didn't seem like much, just like a few dollars from each account, but it builds up to a pretty big amount given how long I suspect it's been going on. The trouble is, I can't figure out if it was set up internally or not. It would be simple to think it was an earlier accountant, but it should have stopped if it was, since most of the ones I took over for are dead—”

“Dead?” Veronica asked, looking at Heather. “Are we talking older and retired or accidents or...?”

“A mix of all causes, I'd suspect,” her husband said, coming in the room. Duke gave him a dark look, not at all impressed by the amount of grease on his shirt or his jeans. He looked like he'd just lost a war with a barrel of sludge, and it was completely unprofessional. “Enough of a rotation to keep anyone from being overly suspicious even though the company was going through a lot of accounting personnel.”

Veronica looked at him. “Where were you?”

“Working on my car, in case that wasn't completely obvious,” he said, “Now how long have you known about this fraud and when did you take it to Ms. Duke? This morning? Because you probably shouldn't bet on having a long life-expectancy.”

Giles gulped. “What? But I... I didn't...”

“You know too much, therefore you would probably be slated for an accident later.”

Veronica winced. “You know, you could say that with a little more... sympathy.”

“I know sympathy? Since when?”

“Don't start,” Veronica said tightly.

“More trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck you, Heather,” they said in perfect unison, which meant they still agreed on something, at least. She supposed that was a victory of sorts.

“Though he does have a point,” Veronica said. “There is a chance that many of those deaths were not what they seemed, not if this scheme has been going on for a long time. Still, it may not be that. He is very much a worst-case scenario thinker, and someone killing every accountant to maintain a fraud, that is the worst possible outcome here. We don't know if that was the case.”

“I suppose you'll want to look at that angle, though,” Heather said. “I'll have the personnel files sent to you. I've got the accounting data—Giles has it—and he was supposed to give it to you, but he seems to have had trouble with your... gatekeeper.”

“A shame you didn't,” Jay said, smirking at her. “Though, remind me, Ronnie. My sister deserves a raise.”

“She could have cost us a case.”

“If she's that much of a terror to all potential clients, she gets double,” he insisted. “It is worth discriminating, and if they can't survive Enid, we don't want to work for them. They'd just piss me off, and that would get us nowhere.”

Heather shook her head. They were never going to make this business work. “What if his crazy theory is right and someone might try and kill Giles?”

“Oh, did I let you think he was the only one in danger?” Jay asked, sounding so innocent which only pissed her off as he finished. “He's not. You already know too much, Heather. I'd watch my back if I were you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case gets discussed a bit more, rather unprofessionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I think that either I'm in a very weird mood (I am, but still) or these three really can't work together.
> 
> Or maybe I'm doing the rebelling from angst with humor thing again? I don't know. It's... odd. But I laughed, so maybe others will enjoy it, too.

* * *

“So I have a few things that people are going to want to see,” Enid announced, breezing her way into the conference room, and Veronica frowned, trying to decide if that was the same outfit she'd been wearing earlier. After weeks of an empty lobby, Enid had given up on a semi-professional look and chosen whatever was most comfortable, though those weren't always incompatible, she might not have changed too much.

Or she had, but she didn't want it to look like she had.

JD gave his sister a smirk she ignored, and Veronica went with the second option, though she swore it hadn't been that long since they'd left Enid downstairs at her desk.

“If it one of those ugly stuffed creations of yours, I'll pass,” Duke said, shaking her head. “I don't know what you see in them.”

“You have no taste. Quaggans are adorable and really the best thing Guild Wars 2 ever came up with, no matter what some idiots claim.”

“Whatever,” Duke said, rolling her eyes. Then she sobered up, arms folded over her chest. “Your asshole of a brother says someone's going to kill us, and while I'm almost tempted to believe it would be him, I doubt it's that simple.”

JD choked on the coffee he'd just taken a sip of and set his cup down, managing a surprisingly good recovery. “Oh, Heather, I am sure you realize you could bring out homicidal tendencies in just about anyone.”

“Yes, I'm aware you seem to think I'm a raging bitch. Can we move on?”

“You know there's a good chance that goes to motive, right?” JD asked, not letting it go. “If someone is defrauding you, it might not be about greed at all. They're stealing your money to stick it to you. And they may have killed to cover it up, but that just means they get to sit back and laugh as you lose bits and pieces of your hard earned money and never know it. They must get one hell of a kick out of watching you with those bridezillas knowing you're one inch from throttling them and then they steal the money you got that almost—well, not really—makes it worthwhile.”

“Should we be looking at you as a suspect, then?” Duke asked, glaring at him. “You seem to have all sorts of motives.”

Veronica really didn't want to go there. She knew JD no longer killed, but he was still capable of violence and his mind was twisted. If he'd decided to make Heather Duke pay after high school, she could actually see him doing it by a small, long-term fraud like this. It was just the sort of devious but subtle thing he seemed to favor these days.

JD snorted. “The very fact that I've made no secret of my animosity towards you means I'm not about to kill you. I would hardly do something they expected me to, as you say, I'm a little obvious. Not that most people wouldn't be after that stunt you pulled with our honeymoon reservations.”

“What newly married couple wouldn't want a chance to increase their starting fortune in Vegas?”

“Cut the bullshit, Heather. We both told you we wanted nothing to do with Vegas,” JD said, all patience gone. “I believe my sentiments were 'fuck, no' at least once. Now if you treated anyone else like that, you'd get lawsuits, but the wife still considers you some kind of a friend, so I haven't set my sister on a vengeful hack into your system or plotted your untimely demise, but believe me, I was tempted.”

Veronica reached over to touch his shoulder, and he jerked when she touched him. He winced, taking a deep breath and letting it out as he tried to calm himself again. Okay, so good bet the dreams were about Vegas again, not that Veronica hadn't guessed as much already. The anniversary of his mother's death had been bad, but this was different.

And she was worried. He was one bad dream from disappearing off the grid again, and if Heather pushed him there, Veronica might just be tempted toward murder herself.

She took his hand. Damn, they were so bad for each other.

“Can we go back to me and my very impressive skills now?” Enid asked. “Because I have for you some very interesting articles about the finances of Duchess Weddings and Destinations. We're not talking about the stuff in Forbes or whatever because that is so boring. No, look at this.”

She picked up the remote and pointed it at the wall, the projector in the ceiling spreading news articles all around the room.

“What exactly are we looking at?” Veronica asked, frowning as she tried to read them. JD held out his glasses to her and she flipped him off. He ignored her and kissed her cheek.

“Should I read them aloud for you?”

“No.”

“This came up with a routine search of 'accountant' and the company. Seriously,” Enid said, shaking her head. “And they're obituaries.”

Veronica felt a little sick. They'd already talked about this, but it was different seeing it like this, in print. “All of them are dead?”

“Yes.”

“Um...” Duke's assistant began. “Why do you sound so... gleeful about that?”

Enid grinned. “I found a murder conspiracy in less than five minutes.”

“Beat you to it again, baby sis.”

“You did not.”

Veronica put a hand to her head. “Actually, he did. He came up with the idea not long before you came in the room.”

“I had proof first.”

“Those describe a lot of accidents and illnesses,” JD said. “It's enough of a number to be suspicious as hell, but it's not proof. I still win, but thanks for playing.”

“There is something very wrong with both of you,” Duke muttered, shaking her head. Veronica wanted to laugh. She had no idea, and heaven help them if she ever realized the truth.

* * *

“So... I should have the police reports on each 'accidental' death and the one murder soon enough,” Enid said, taking her seat and setting her tablet in front of her. “Honestly, a mugging? Can't people do better than that? Where is the creativity?”

“Muggings present themselves as random crimes. Low level thugs, scavengers just trying to get by, no connection to the victim,” Jay said. “It's used a cover because it looks like something that could happen to anyone at any time, no rhyme or reason, just dumb bad luck. That, and since there is no connection, the killer is harder to find unless they do something stupid like pawn an obvious piece.”

“The amount of stuff you know about murder is rather... scary,” Giles said, and Enid tried not to laugh. This guy had no idea.

And really, it wasn't that funny. Or it shouldn't be. Damn her genetic donor for passing along that warped sense of humor.

“Jay studies a lot of psychology books in his spare time,” Enid said instead. That was true, though she still thought he didn't really even need them. He knew all he needed to know. 

“And I don't think you have any room to talk, Mr. Cosplay.”

Giles went red. “You're the one who claims to speak Simlish.”

“Oh, please,” Enid said, dismissing that idea out of hand. With as many hours as she'd logged in that game, it was easy. “Like that is hard. Did you know it was originally just going to be based on Navajo code talk?”

“Yeah, it was too complicated to adapt, so they improvised it out of gibberish instead,” Giles answered. He caught Duke looking at him and pulled on his collar. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Enid tapped a button on her tablet and changed one of the projections, getting laughter out of Jay and a groan from Veronica.

“The price of tea in China. Nice.”

She gave him a grin, enjoying her moment even if she and Jay were the only ones that did. “Look, the point of you coming to us was to find your little embezzler, right? And we've already uncovered a bunch of dead people which should make you very, very worried as you're the numbers man. I don't really know what you were expecting.”

“A simple, upfront fraud?”

Enid laughed. “Oh, you're cute. Is that really how it works in your world?”

“Oh, come now, Niddie. You know you were equally naïve before you started working with me,” Jay said, and she glared at him. “And as amusing as it seeing you attempt to flirt, I think Duke is going to have an aneurysm if we don't get back to the topic at hand.”

Enid felt her face go red. “I was not flirting.”

Jay just smirked at her, so she flipped him off.

“God, I sincerely hope if you ever get other clients you'd be more professional,” Duke muttered. “This would be one hell of a lousy investment.”

“And yet none of us asked you for a cent,” Jay said. “And we didn't even ask for the wedding. You insisted.”

Duke looked very defensive now, maybe even flustered. “Veronica saved my daughter from a serial killer. I owed her.”

“And that is why we accepted it, but it really wasn't necessary,” Veronica said. “And next time, I think we'll discuss what we have to present to the client before we actually meet with them. Right, you two?”

Jay smiled at her. “You're so adorable when you're irritated with me.”

“You're full of shit.”

He leaned over and stole a kiss, which Enid figured was the quickest way to end that conversation because it would have been loud and long and ugly if he hadn't. This way it was cute, more or less, though she supposed she shouldn't find her brother's highly dysfunctional relationship adorable.

“I could go to someone else.”

Jay let Veronica go, waving her on after he did. She sighed, though Enid did think she was rather quiet this morning. Normally she'd have more to say about a case, but she was letting Jay or Enid do most of the talking.

Was something up with Veronica, too? Jay was off, but then he always was. And what was with being covered in grease? Since when did Jay get his hands dirty?

“Remember that there isn't proof yet. A lot of coincidences. You might get laughed right out of an office with this,” Veronica said. “Well, you'd get shuffled to me because Richards loved giving me the crackpots, but then he was a dick.”

“You do realize what you just—”

“Shut up, Enid.”

* * *

“All distractions aside,” JD said, rising from the table and taking his moment to almost grandstand, knowing someone had to pretend at order, and while he liked to be the one messing with it, he was also the one who tended to hold everyone's attention. Shame about that because Veronica really should be doing more of the talking. She saw the same stuff he did. He just spoke louder or faster and had annoying sister. “We're looking at long-term fraud with someone willing to go to a lot of trouble to maintain it. Faking an accident or a suicide is not as simple as it used to be. Forensics will probably contradict a lot of these findings when we have those files, which Veronica will request through the proper channels—”

“I already have them—”

“—so that we can pretend we didn't shortcut that step, thank you very much, Niddie, as those legal people so frown on the hacking aspect of things,” he finished, giving his sister a pointed look. “Veronica the genius over there gets to check Mr. Cosplay's numbers—”

“Um, that's not my name.”

JD gave him a look. He really should have changed clothes before coming in, as even a suit would give him more of an air of authority. He hadn't really thought past walking in the door, unsettled as he'd been to realize there were people in the conference room. 

“Did I give you any impression I cared? Even if you were flirting with my sister?”

“I wasn't.”

JD rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for denials. That was awkward, but it was also what Enid considered flirting, which was only halfway successful for her when she didn't realize she was doing it. That guy had played right into it, so he was at best doing a bit of mixed signals, or they were both too hopeless to think about. 

“And Enid will be looking at your internal systems for any possible exploits on the off chance this is not an inside job. Or even if it is. You do intend to give her access, right, Heather?”

Duke folded her arms over her chest. “Do I have a choice?”

“You could walk out the door and take your case with you,” he told her, knowing full well that was still an option at any time. She was their only paying client, but she didn't have to pay them, since this was technically just a consultation. “You have other options, though I'm going to be a bit annoyed if someone else takes credit for the pattern I spotted thanks to my expertise in the criminal mind.”

“You're a psychologist?” Cosplay asked, staring at him in disbelief.

“No, I'm a psychopath,” JD corrected with a smile. The other man really didn't know what to think of him, and JD loved it. It was like early days with Enid when he could get her to react to the smallest of things. This could be very fun. “And we get the loan of your accountant for as long as we need him, right?”

Duke grimaced. “I suppose you're offering to put him under your protection so he doesn't die like the others.”

JD shrugged. “I suppose we could do that. Veronica, that might also be your department.”

She gave him a tight smile, and he knew he'd pay for that later. “I'd argue with you giving me orders, but I know you're not going to protect anyone, so I'll accept it. Should we give him Enid's room here at the office?”

“What?” Enid asked, looking up from her tablet in horror. “No. Hell, no.”

Veronica's lips curved in amusement. “Are you afraid he'll get scared off by your quaggan shrine?”

“Screw you. It's not a shrine. You were killing the tree so I rescued it, and Ralph is doing much better without your neglect. He almost looks like a bonsai should.”

Duke shook her head. “I swear, I should never have tried to do you any favors, Veronica.”

Veronica snorted. “Heather, if you'd gone to someone else, they'd still be looking at Giles' numbers and he'd likely be dead before they figured out all your other accountants were probably murdered. And... there is still a chance you're at risk, too.”

“You had better just be paranoid about this.”

“Oh, I'm paranoid,” JD agreed. “I'm also very rarely wrong.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is made, a confrontation had, and an accident happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck. I swear I was. Then I wrote on something else I was stuck on and finished a chapter and posted it with a lot of misgivings and then this one came... almost easy? I don't know. It was Enid, I swear, because she was making me laugh out loud as wrong as that was, and then I had a plot for a second, and it worked?

* * *

“You know if I stay here, it's not really like I'll be safe,” Giles began, and Enid turned to glare at him. He should not insult the people who were working to help him, and he was not doing so great at that, at least not so far. She knew she'd been her best rude self earlier, but that was no excuse. “I mean, they'll know I came here if they're watching, and you seem to think they are, whoever they are and... And they know already.”

Duke grimaced. “He's got a bit of a point. If they know he's shown me this or they suspect he will, they'll be watching both of us, and my car is rather noticeable.”

“That's what you get for driving a moving advertisement,” Jay said, and Duke glared at him. 

“You know, with your habit of driving vintage masterpieces, you're noticeable in other ways,” Veronica told him. He gave her a look.

“I have you and Enid to drive the loser modern mass production stereotypes that blend with the crowds of sheep in this world. I don't need something plain, nor do I want something driven by a computer. That's trackable. And hackable.”

Enid nodded. “Very true. I could do it if I got bored.”

Veronica turned toward her, suddenly suspicious. “Why do I get the feeling you already have?”

“Because your pathetic excuse for a car was way too damned easy?” Enid suggested. Then she caught herself. “I mean, I never even tried. I wouldn't. That's not safe at all.”

Veronica glared at her. Jay smirked, so she reached over and hit him. He shrugged, getting an eyeroll from Duke.

“You drive a stereotype?” Giles asked, and Enid looked at him. “What, like a Volkswagen Beetle or something?”

Enid refused to say that she'd had one for most of her life until it died shortly after her move to work with Jay. “No.”

“Hers is electric.”

“Oh.”

“I am into conservation,” Enid said. “There has to be a world to fuel my internet, after all. And if you read certain authors, the internet being there stops—delays—the apocalypse.”

“Interesting. Most of them think that the internet _is_ the apocalypse.”

“And what are you, one of the four horsemen?” Enid asked, getting a frown from him. Jay laughed, though, so it was worth it. “Well, you did come here with something that uncovered the beginning of the end, after all.”

“I did not. I was just—it's fraud, and you're exaggerating this conspiracy behind everyone dying. There is a bit of a high turn over in the company, but then there's the whole bridezilla thing and—”

“Giles,” Duke said. “Shut up.”

He looked down at his hands, face red.

“I'm actually not surprised there's a high turnover in your industry, and it would also explain why so many accountants leaving wouldn't be noticed right away, even if you are in theory away from most of the problem clients,” Jay said, looking at Duke when he said the last bit. She glared back at him. “And yes, it's true that if you were to stay here after this meeting, they'd know exactly where you were, but I never said you were supposed to move in right now. I'd suggest a layered effect to see if anyone is actually following you. So you'd drive home, Veronica would follow you in her generic excuse for a vehicle, you'd go back home, pack your bags, and meet Enid in a different generic vehicle before coming back here or anywhere else we'd think to stash you. Now there's still the issue of Heather, as she's also at risk, but she's not in a position to disappear, which seems more like we'd need... outside intervention.”

“What?”

“Hired bodyguards?” Duke asked, sounding disgusted. “I am not some shrinking violet to cower behind a big man. I can protect myself.”

“And I don't doubt that for a second,” Jay told her, “but if this were Veronica, who was a trained federal agent who had to defend herself and others on multiple occasions, I'd still recommend additional protection. I've been bait before, and it's a very vulnerable position. It's not one you'd want, Heather, and also not one we can afford to use. At this point, we have no sense of this killer besides their ability to remain undetected for years and a lot of greed. Which, come to think of it, does not explain enough of their motive. There's too many people dying for this to be just about money. Not alone...”

“As much as I think we'd love to have you come up with another crazy ass theory, I'm done with those for the day,” Heather said. “I have clients to see and work to do. This has already taken longer than I expected because of your unprofessional behavior, and I need to get back to my business.”

Veronica grimaced. “Heather, even if we haven't proven that there's a killer, please don't ignore this. You need to take the threat seriously until we prove there isn't one. Please.”

“You said please,” Jay muttered. “That negates your whole argument.”

“Shut up.”

“I'm not planning on doing anything stupid,” Heather said. “Just routine, and if I notice anything strange, I'll let you know, but in the meantime, I have a life to get back to.”

Jay leaned back in his chair. “Don't discount the possibility that this person wouldn't harm your family. The killer may have no qualms about collateral damage, and if that's true—”

“This asshole had better not think of fucking with my kids,” Duke said, her voice cold. “Believe me, I'm still tempted to pull the plug on the one who thought he could dare touch Helena.”

Jay grimaced. “If you insist, but remember, you'll have a lot more problems in prison.”

She flipped him off and walked out the door. 

Veronica looked at him, rubbing her forehead. “You know that didn't help.”

“She wasn't taking this seriously,” Jay said. “I told you—I'm paranoid. I'm not wrong. This screams serial killer to me, and it's someone with the kind of long term plan that makes me look sane at my most deranged because seriously... killing this many people instead of cutting their losses makes no sense at all. Money is not enough.”

“We're going to lose him to theorizing for the rest of the day,” Enid said. “So I suppose we may as well drive Cosplay home.”

“My name is not Cosplay.” Giles protested. “It's actually—”

“It's too late, Crosley,” Jay told him as he rose. “Once you get saddled with a nickname around here, it tends to stick.”

He stared at Jay in disbelief. Jay smiled, circling around the table and setting his driver's license on the table. 

“Uh... when? You didn't even come close to my chair.”

“I did, actually, when I had my brief grandstanding moment and gave everyone assignments. The bit about protecting you distracted you plenty,” Jay answered. “That, and I learned to be very, very good at that. Trust me on that much.”

“Uh...”

“You're going to catch flies with that mouth,” Enid told him. He turned to her, and she smiled. “So, which of your cosplay outfits are you bringing to the slumber party?”

* * *

“I don't like this,” Veronica said, closing the door behind her and making sure she blocked JD's escape because he would probably try and use it if she pushed as far as she was tempted to right now. “And I know the next words out of your mouth are going to be, 'what's to like?' And I will preemptively say nothing because this is a pretty fucked up situation if you're right and I am almost certain you are, which is rather terrifying, all things considered, but there's more going on here than a fraud case and murder.”

He pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Her eyes went to the scars on his side, and she tried not to think about that again. How many times had she almost lost him now? Only once had she thought that was what she wanted. Oh, sure, she'd tried to believe it for most of her life, but it wasn't true and she had admitted that a long time ago.

Then again, the him she'd wanted out of her life was a killer bent on blowing up the school to make a point, not the damaged, semi-reformed trickster in front of her. At best, he was an anti-hero, though she knew he'd never admit to that, either.

“You're worried.”

“JD, you keep leaving in the middle of the night, and that would bother any new wife, I'd think—spare me the lectures on marriages not done for love and how ours is one of them, too—but this particular wife also knows how easily and effectively her husband can go off the grid, as well as nearly lost him a few weeks ago to a serial killer and before that to another psycho and even before that—”

He had closed the distance between them while she was talking and put a finger over her lips. “I went to work on my latest car. It's a project on purpose. The mental and physical exercise in fixing it is... a stress reliever.”

“Right,” she muttered, pulling his hand down from her face. “And it's such a relief that you actually told me about before today.”

He leaned his head against hers. “It doesn't work if you can interrupt the puzzle.”

“Yeah. Sure. That doesn't make me feel—”

“Veronica, will you please just accept that I am trying and that this method does work for me most of the time?” JD asked, looking her in the eyes. “It's not that I want to exclude you. I don't. I just... work better on machinery without an audience.”

“You could at least tell me what's causing the dreams because we're going into another very dangerous case, my friend's life is at stake, and you are not acting like you're in any state to work on this. That worries me for so many reasons, not the least of which is because I care about you, damn it.”

He swallowed. “More of that trip to Vegas is coming back despite how well I thought I'd buried it. I don't want to talk about the details, okay? I'm working through it. I haven't left, and my ability to look at the psychotic mind is just as twisted as ever and in full force. I may even have more of the motive by the time I'm done in the shower and you'll have to put up with a bunch of wild theorizing when you get back from making sure our little whistle blower is safe. And believe me, I want your mind focused on that so that nothing happens to you while you're gone because I can't lose you. We're kind of codependent. It's not healthy, but we're aware of that. On the bright side, you function better than I do without me, so... just be careful while you're gone and know that the worst thing I'm facing is the possibility of falling in the shower which is admittedly high but—”

“You asshole.”

He grinned and leaned in to steal a kiss.

* * *

“I take it my brother won again,” Enid observed as Veronica stepped out of the elevator, and she shot her a look, not in the mood for this. “Come on. If you'd won, he'd be coming with you to do this whole overly elaborate plan of yours because you're still worried despite his attempt at pacifying you, and so you'd have him at your side where you can keep watch on him.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Your brother is not a child or an invalid, and while he is definitely a trouble magnet, he's also capable of taking care of himself. Plus his commentary on every car we pass or song on the radio or noise made by the car would get very old, very fast. I'd lose track of the whole point of the exercise.”

“Right, keeping Cosplay alive.”

“Crosley,” the accountant muttered, probably not for the first and definitely not for the last time. “It's Crosley, okay? Or Giles. Or I suppose you could use my middle name if nothing else.”

“It's cute you think I'd even consider that,” Enid said. “Now are you going to fork over the address or do I have to look you up on the internet? Last chance because I'm thinking there's a delicious bit of your cosplay online which will come up when your name goes through google—”

“I thought you already had googled him by now,” Veronica said. “Are you slipping, Enid?”

“She's just torturing me for no reason that I can tell,” Giles said. “I swear I didn't do anything wrong. I mean, there was the misunderstanding about me actually being here to bring you a case, but that shouldn't merit this.”

“I think Enid's this way with everyone she meets,” Veronica said, though at least part of that was a lie. She'd put Veronica through a bit of abuse when they first met, but she seemed to take to the Heathers, Martha, and Betty rather well. She included them in the wedding torture she'd put Veronica through back then, and they'd inadvertently made it worse.

“Right.”

“I am a genius with computers and people annoy me easily,” Enid said. “Speaking of, why are we all still standing here? Shouldn't we be getting a move on?”

“Um...”

“Yes, we are. That requires you having an alternate route to his place, me being ready to follow from a distance, and him being in his actual car,” Veronica reminded both of them. “So as much as you might not want to risk it, Giles, out the door you go.”

“I really think you're overreacting to this,” he said. “Shouldn't you two be in your cars first?”

“Um, no, because you're going to come out the back to mine, and no one needs to see me or think I'm there for your sorry butt,” Enid said. “Which reminds me... where did I leave my keys?”

“Ask your brother. He might have put them in the shrine.”

“Screw you. There is no shrine.”

Veronica smiled as she headed for the door. She had parked out front instead of inside their private lot when she saw Heather's car, so she didn't need to pull around to watch Giles leave. She went to her car, unlocking the door as she saw him coming out. 

Enid had her phone up for some reason, and Veronica had a feeling that wasn't good, but she ignored it as she opened her car door. She sat down and was about to close the door as she heard a car coming up way too fast for the side street they were on. She pulled her door shut just in time for it to miss taking it off crawling out the other side as soon as she realized what was going on.

She was already too late by the time she was halfway there. The car hit Giles with the sort of sickening sound effect Veronica wished were left to the movies, not slowing down for a second as it drove away.

She ran the rest of the way to him, kneeling down on the ground and searching for a pulse.

“Is he dead?” Enid asked as she came toward them. “That's so wrong. He's too cute to die.”

Veronica ignored her. “Call an ambulance.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enid and Veronica wait at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write the aftermath of the hit and run and couldn't, and after days of not being able to make any progress, I decided to skip it for the sake of moving forward. I don't think the story loses anything for it. 
> 
> It was hard finding where to go and what to do, though, admittedly. I was about ready to say this story couldn't be finished, either.

* * *

“I can't believe theorizing was more important than this.”

“And if you will recall, I am technically dead and have zero interest in showing my face at a hospital with all of that security,” Jay said. “True, it's no airport, but there's dozens of cameras around, armed guards, twitchy patients, overzealous nurses... I think I will pass.”

Enid rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jay. Our client is in the emergency room, and you're sitting at home with a slushie and a psychology book.”

“You are more than capable of playing nursemaid if such a thing is required, and I believe he would actually prefer it as I tend to confuse people at best and terrify them at worst. I may remind you again of what I did in my teenage years, and I would like you to think about that for a second. Now stop telling me I should be there to watch over this guy. I'd be of no use there and you know it.”

Enid sighed. “I hate hospitals.”

Jay snorted, and she heard him moving around on the other end of the line. “Name one person that likes hospitals. I don't even think the people that work there do.”

“And there's blood,” Enid said, eying the people across the waiting room from them, her stomach twisting again. “Lots and lots of blood.”

“Niddie, give the phone to Veronica.”

“No.”

“Now.”

Enid sighed and passed her sister-in-law the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Veronica frowned, taking it and putting it to her ear. She listened for a moment, smiled slightly, and nodded. Enid did not like this at all. They were conspiring against her again. That was not okay. She didn't like it when they teamed up against her. That was never, ever good. Teaming up against Jay? Fine. Teaming against Veronica? Not bad. Them against her? Utterly unfair.

“You do realize this means you owe me,” Veronica said, and Enid frowned. She really didn't like the sound of that. No one wanted to be in Jay's debt. That was just a bad idea. He charged interest by the second, not the month or even the day. “No, you owe me. That is so not how this works—I'm the one doing you a favor, not the other way around. Shut up, and no, you're wrong so forget it.”

She hung up and looked at Enid. “Your brother is an ass.”

“You still married him.”

“Don't remind me,” Veronica said, rising. “Though I think he might just be right.”

Enid folded her arms over her chest. “What do you mean, he's right? You can't just keep his theories from me whatever they might be. You know that. I am a valuable part of this team. More than you know, even, because neither of you has any real comprehension of how I do what I do and think that I make up the stuff I do when I win the internet—”

“No, we don't, but we've both admitted that. You are the tech person. We have other skills. Though your brother lies about his tech skills and has more than he admits all the same. Just... do me a favor and text Heather to tell her that she needs a new accountant.”

Enid swallowed. “Wait. We don't actually know that she—”

“No matter what happens in there, she needs a new one,” Veronica said. “And I think the sooner our little friend out there knows that, the better.”

Enid frowned. “You think this person who set up the fraud is monitoring Heather's communications?”

Veronica leaned down into her ear. “You don't think that someone who set up that fraud could also have gotten to Heather's phone? That they wouldn't be monitoring Giles' phone? Intraoffice emails? They need to believe they succeeded.”

“And you think they won't be watching the hospital?” Enid asked, feeling a bit paranoid and now wondering which of the people covered in blood might be really here to spy on them and find out if Giles happened to die in the emergency room.

Veronica shrugged. “Maybe, but if they have sense they won't get close. They don't want to be seen.”

Enid grimaced. “Don't say that like I'm an idiot. I know that it's crazy for them to be here, but we don't know that they aren't. They could still be here even if it's risky. They did hit him with a car, and that's a risk.”

“Stolen car, likely abandoned and set on fire to conceal evidence.”

“Did Jay already find it?”

“He said you would once you got over your 'blood' thing and remembered that you could hack anywhere you wanted.”

Enid grimaced. “I hate when he does that.”

Veronica smiled. “He does have a point.”

“I know. That's why I hate him.”

* * *

Veronica stepped outside, grateful to be away from the sounds and smells of the emergency room. She wasn't as sensitive to blood as Enid was, but she could do without the closeness that room seemed to create, even as large as it was, and she needed to get away from there.

The memories didn't help any. It hadn't been that long ago that she'd been waiting in a similar room, worried that she was going to lose JD again. At the time, she hadn't admitted to loving him, and sometimes she still thought she shouldn't, but she'd at least known then that she couldn't stand losing him. He had come back into her life, and it was like somehow he'd always been there—and that didn't even apply to the bits of stalking he had told her about—just that he was woven into the fabric of her life in ways she didn't understand but didn't want to live without.

She shook her head, refusing to get caught back up in more doubts and fears. She was still worried about him, she couldn't deny that, and his explanation for it didn't do much to ease her concerns. JD was coping, he said, but he was doing it alone and could be lying about the whole thing.

And, honestly, would they ever have real trust in this relationship of theirs?

She dug her phone out of her pocket and used a familiar contact, making the call.

“Hanson? That you? What do you want?”

Veronica grimaced. “Philips, you know that I—”

“Are you about to confirm those rumors about a wedding? Did you really let an amnesiac witness sweep you off your feet? That's... not like you.”

Veronica put a hand to her head, not wanting to deal with this. She knew that lie would come back to bite them in the ass, but how else did they explain JD's past? They couldn't. He was legally dead, and he couldn't come back from that, not really. He'd avoided taxes for years, for one thing, and that was only one part of the legal complications that he'd face if he tried to use his birth name and identity.

He'd also destroyed his original birth certificate, so that was a problem as well.

“It's complicated, Philips. And I'm not making a social call here.”

“I suppose you wouldn't be,” Philips said. “We weren't exactly friends before, and if we were, I'd have gotten an invitation to that wedding.”

She grimaced. That could never happen considering Philips thought JD had amnesia but her friends thought he was some long-term on again off again boyfriend from the time when Richards had cut everyone out of her life. 

“Look, I have another case that might have federal implications, and I thought this time I'd give you a heads up on it,” Veronica said. “My friend runs a huge wedding planning and travel business—”

“Please tell me this has nothing to do with Heather Duke.”

“Was she really that bad when she found out that Brad Richards Junior had targeted her daughter?”

“And then some,” Philips said. “Apparently, we're supposed to be psychics who can prevent that sort of thing from ever coming near her precious offspring.”

“Well, this time it's about money, though as her accountant is currently in the ER and it doesn't look very good for him, it's not the same as her daughter. I tried to tell her she was also at risk if these people were willing to kill to cover up their theft, but she didn't seem to think much of that idea.”

Philips sighed. “Even now?”

“Well, I did say there was a federal connection,” Veronica reminded him. “Several of her other accountants have died over the years, mostly in accidents and suicides, though at least one mugging was in the mix and never solved and—”

“Tell me you do not think this is a conspiracy where all of them were actually murdered.”

“I can't prove that it isn't right now,” Veronica told him, though technically the theory was JD's. It just fit very well with what Enid had found. “And I hope I'm wrong, but I do plan on looking into every one of those deaths and this theft.”

“And I suppose I could help you to a point.”

“Any change in that whole Vegas mess?”

“None worth mentioning. I don't suppose your husband has remembered anything useful, has he?”

“No,” Veronica lied, knowing full well that JD remembered far more than he wanted to and just about every bit of it was damning.

* * *

He stood in the kitchen, eyes wandering to where Enid kept her small stash of Bailey's and other coffee additives, trying to convince himself that he did not, even a little, need it. He knew it wouldn't be enough, as liqueur was not nearly strong enough for a former morphine and ketamine addict, but he also knew he was likely to lose this battle.

Not that it would be hard to replace what Enid had. That he could do without her ever knowing he'd depleted it, but he was trying to convince himself not to. He was not that desperate.

The fact that he hadn't really slept in nearly a week and was starting to buy into his own nightmares disagreed with that, but he was not going to go back to being powerless. He refused to do that. This wasn't even something he could disguise as a form of self-medicating. It was just weakness, that intense desire to forget wanting to chase every sense of oblivion no matter how fleeting.

He could go back to work on the car. He'd bought a mess on purpose, knowing it would keep him occupied for a long time, and the addition of physical work to the mental component of figuring out what was wrong with the various parts made it usually effective. He hadn't always picked classic cars to work on, since he preferred staying out of Bud's money, but he found it more appealing this way, restoring a legacy instead of rebuilding something someone else would just run back into the ground.

He also felt like setting his latest project on fire, so he wasn't sure he should go back out to the garage.

The phone rang, and he jumped, cursing himself for the reaction as he moved over to pick up the unit from the corner of the counter. He wasn't sure whose idea it was to have the business line on cordless units throughout the apartment, but he was not thrilled about it.

Then again, it hadn't been a problem before, when they had no business to speak of, and it might not even be important now.

He picked it up, putting it to his ear. “What?”

“How exactly do you expect to keep Cosplay's survival a secret if he doesn't die in there?” Enid asked. “I mean, that is your plan, right? So what are you thinking we're going to do here?”

“I thought you were supposed to be tracking down the hack on Duke's phone.”

“Please. Her security is laughable, and I can almost guarantee someone cloned that thing a long time ago,” Enid said. “It was such a waste of my time to even go looking.”

“And yet you haven't found the little bit of code that makes this fraud possible or tracked it to its source,” he said, running a hand over his face. “That's got to be somewhere in the accounting software, doesn't it? Or is it the bank itself? That could be tricky.”

“What is up with you, anyway? You are so... not you right now.”

He snorted. “Enid, I never once in the entire time you were working with me showed you the 'real' me, and up until that case, I assumed you didn't know who I was. Even with you knowing my name, you didn't know me or what I'd done.”

“I admit that there are things in your past I really don't like and wish I didn't know about, but even for the you that's a front that you let us see, you're off. And I'm not the only one who knows.”

“I already discussed this with Veronica. I'm... dealing with it.”

“Which is why you hid upstairs instead of coming with us to the hospital when our client is dying?”

“I also already gave you my reasons for not going there, though you could add the trigger that hospitals are for my post traumatic stress if you insist on it. They were never a good place for me, which you also know. Why are we going over old ground? This is pointless.”

“Because you're worrying people, and we care about you, and we want to help but you won't let us. Because we have a case and you're not with us and it is worrisome.”

“Worry about Duke. This thing has nothing to do with me for a change, so we can just... proceed with the other parts of our plan, find this killer, and end things.”

“With you being barely functional over there?”

“Veronica has more than enough intelligence, training, and skills to cover over my deficiencies of the moment, and you've worked with her before. You do your part, she'll do hers, and mine is hardly necessary.”

“Don't talk like that. It's scary from you.”

“What, because I'm an egotistical ass most of the time who loves grandstanding?”

“Yes,” Enid answered immediately, and then grumbled, adding on more. “And no, because you only half-pretend to be egotistical. You have no sense of self-worth or it wouldn't have been so hard for you to stick around and marry the woman you love.”

He grimaced. “Let's just get back to the case.”

“Jay, please. If this is about Bud—”

“Enough about me. Case. Someone just tried to kill your future husband, so focus.”

She was silent, and he knew she was fuming, but he didn't care. He didn't need her in his personal life, even if they were working together and this awkward thing with Veronica was now a matter of record.

“I need access to the company's systems to get a better line on who did this hack.”

“I'm sure Duke will give it to you assuming you need on-site access.”

“What I need is more than you on the other end of a phone call.”

He shook his head. He might have been looking out the window and watching when the car hit Crosley, but even that wasn't useful. The front door did have a camera of its own, which was why he never used it to come and go, preferring their private entrance which had better security without video, as he would never be comfortable on film, and that camera would be more useful than what he saw.

“Did you get our security feed yet? I would have thought you'd have a license plate and everything for the police by now.”

“Veronica told me you called it already, and you did. It was reported stolen early this morning, found burning a half hour ago. Complete dead end.”

“Not as much as you think,” he disagreed. “Go back to where it was stolen. Look around the area. There may be a camera on that lot itself but there's still traffic ones to consider as well.”

“You think our killer managed to get themselves filmed while stealing the car?”

“It's not impossible,” he said, well aware of his own paranoia where cameras were concerned. He almost missed Judas Dane's heavy, obnoxious robe. “And again, not something you needed me to tell you.”

“I hadn't thought of it.”

“You're distressed over the accident.”

“And you're not?”

He wasn't. His mind was a little distracted by the thought that this hit and run was planned at least a few hours in advance, but what that told him he didn't know. Yet. And even with that, it was hard to feel anything about what had gone down in front of their building. 

“I saw it happen,” he admitted, since he'd been standing at the window watching when it did. “I feel nothing. Maybe I really do fit the older, inaccurate assessment of sociopath.”

“Don't start that again. You are not that, and we are not going down that road again with you. You're not leaving, we are working, and I would like to have my brother around for certain life events—and no, not a wedding because just because this guy does cosplay does not make him my soulmate but you deserve a chance at a decent family life, and with my mom back east—”

“Do not hang those kind of hopes on me. I will only fuck them up.”

“If you do it on purpose, we are going to hunt you down and make you pay. Wow, the looks that just got me,” Enid said. “Apparently I'm the psycho one around here.”

“You are in a hospital emergency room. You might want to watch what you're saying.”

“What I want is for you to be okay enough for us not to have to worry that you'll disappear when we're not looking and since neither of us is with you right now—”

“I am not planning on going anywhere.”

“Sure you're not.”

“Goodbye, Enid.”

* * *

“Any word?” Veronica asked as she rejoined Enid in the waiting room. Getting air hadn't helped as much as she hoped for, and any relief that had come from it was gone as soon as she was back inside. She took a breath and let it out. She was fine. JD was not in the hospital. Enid wasn't. Veronica wasn't. They were all fine.

And they barely knew Giles, so it wasn't like they'd be devastated by his loss, even if he seemed like a decent enough guy that didn't deserve to die. Also, it was kind of funny to see him bickering with Enid, but if he didn't make it, they'd just continue on with their case. They'd get him justice, but he was still more or less a stranger. It wasn't the same as having JD or Enid threatened like the last time or when Veronica had been the target before.

She ran her hands over her arms, aware of the scars there and feeling sick all over again. She needed to get out and do something before she went insane.

“Not from the doctors, but I hacked the hospital and have been monitoring the updates on him,” Enid admitted. Veronica frowned. “Come on. If this person is at all tech savvy, they're going to do the same thing. It was important to create a false listing of our guy as dead and change his name to any outsider so that they don't know that part is a lie. So I've been very busy in between baiting Duke and/or her would-be assassin and talking my brother down.”

Veronica frowned. “What do you mean, talking him down?”

Enid grimaced. “I don't know. Something told me to call Jay, and he sounds... off again. Like... I don't think he should be alone off.”

Veronica bit back a swear. Damn it, he'd lied to her again, acted like he was fine when he gave his advice to her earlier. And she'd fallen for it.

“I was going to go over the case files,” Veronica said. “So I'll go back to the apartment and make him look at it with me.”

Enid nodded. “Okay.”

“What now?”

“Is it normal to have no reaction to seeing someone get hit by a car?”

“Um, it depends on the person.”

“Jay thinks it means he really is sociopathic, which we know he isn't, but if he's saying crap like that again—”

“Yeah, I know. You stay here, keep your hacker eye on Giles, and I'll deal with JD.”

“And if someone tries to do something to Giles? I'm not—okay, so I know a bit about how to defend myself, but someone else? I didn't get that kind of training. That's why you're supposed to be here. Why Jay is picking a very bad time to have a mental crisis.”

Veronica shook her head. “Your brother is a walking mental crisis, and this started long before we got a case. He said he was doing stuff to cope with it, and it was working, but maybe the stress of the case pushed him too far.”

“You'd better hope not. Or when you get back home, your husband will be gone.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica deals with JD and his issues while trying to look into the other possible murders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is all over, maybe because I'm all over... maybe not. I like parts of it, though, so I'll go ahead with it anyway.

* * *

“Do I even want to know what happened to the table?”

He didn't look behind him. “No.”

Veronica sighed, not sure she was up to this. She wasn't under any illusions that she was fixing him, even if he had accused her of marrying him for that purpose, and she knew she couldn't change him, either. Anything for that had to come from him—and perhaps a therapist, not that he was willing to see one given what he'd done and what that person would be morally obligated to do—and he mostly seemed willing to at least _try_ it.

Hell, the fact that he had reformed enough to stop killing was huge, and she wouldn't have expected it of him, certainly not on his own and not without the threat of prison, but he'd actually done it. He'd turned more than that around after getting free from Bud, and while he wasn't a saint or anything close to it, he was not what he'd been.

He'd come a long way since then without much in the way of traditional therapy.

And yet, their very overpriced and opulent table was now in splinters.

“I think we need to have a real discussion about what's bothering you,” she said, coming up to him. She touched his back and he jerked away from her. “JD, please.”

He shook his head. “I will replace the table. I was just... frustrated.”

“There are healthier ways to deal with that.”

“I destroyed a table so I wouldn't do something worse or give into the temptation of drugs. Would you please give me a bit of fucking credit here? Yes, what I did was insane, but no, I am not dead. I didn't hurt anyone else. I didn't get drunk or high, and that thing... it's only money in the end. There's still more to replace it.”

“Yeah? And what happens when you can't control it and hurt yourself? Because you're not replaceable.”

He snorted. “Oh, please. I have made a life having little to no lasting impact on people. And I was out of your life for a very long time—Enid lived most of hers without me and—”

“You gave me a vow, remember? And I gave you one. Is that all bullshit to you?”

He put a hand to his head. “No. I just... this is infuriating because I don't... it shouldn't even fucking matter, okay? And here I am with a puzzle I want to figure out, the kind of thing that worked very well for keeping my mind off of the other crap and it's not. I'm still stuck in the past, and that pisses me off so badly I broke the table.”

She came around to face him. “We all have pasts. You think mine doesn't bother me on a daily basis?”

“You did marry it, so...”

“Stop it. As much as what we did was wrong and you scared the hell out of me by the end, not everything that has gone wrong in my life is about you or Westerburg. I have years of past without you, too, and plenty of my own regrets.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I am not helping you clean up that mess, either.”

“That's more than fair.”

“But I would like to be able do something before you reach the part where you destroy furniture or anything else.”

He took in a breath and let it out. “I'm still mostly used to dealing with this on my own. Even when Enid worked for me... she never saw this side of me. I don't show this to... anyone. This isn't... me. I'm not... this. I hate it. I hate being—”

“Weak?” Veronica supplied, knowing that was a huge part of his damage. Bud didn't believe in weakness, and he'd passed that lesson onto his son in the worst possible of ways all the while using other mind games to confuse the issue and make JD the mess he was now. Not that she thought he was what Bud wanted, as JD had found some way to hold onto enough of himself to come thorough his childhood intact, more or less, if far from sane.

“Yes.”

“JD, how many of those psychology books have you read that say this is weakness? Isn't it a very common response to the kinds of things you're dealing with? My therapist, while not the greatest in the universe, would say you have natural feelings and you're working through them.”

“Which is what makes psychology a 'soft' science and—”

“I don't even want to get into that,” Veronica said. “Let's go to a different store and look at shampoo. Or Twizzlers. Or do any of a hundred other things to help you cope, but don't internalize it and think you're doing something wrong for having a moment. Or ten.”

He eyed the table. “Hundred, maybe.”

She could see that. “And I'd like to know where to find this garage of yours so that if you're gone for long periods, I can find you just for my own peace of mind.”

He frowned. “I don't like being—”

“An address and a twelve hour minimum is not too much to ask.”

“Fine, I concede that. I just... Twelve?”

“I wanted two or maybe four at the most, but this is me compromising.”

He laughed. “Oh, come now. You're an independent adult. I might not be as... functional as you right now, but if I asked you for a two hour limit on shopping or girls' night or—”

“You also need other friends.”

“Veronica, I hate people. I really do. That is not a good idea, even if I arguably could use more support for when I am like this. I wouldn't want it, and I... I don't do friendship. You and I are some kind of strange exception to my many rules, and we're not friends. We're something else, and Enid also doesn't count as she's family and even then... she's just weird.”

Veronica tried not to react to that last bit. He wasn't going to distract her with humor. “I get the address. And you are going to at least share the room with me for a while.”

“Do I get you as my life-size snuggly quaggan, then?”

That was a trap and a half and she wasn't falling into it. She gestured to the folders she'd made from the files Enid sent her. “I want to go over the files on those deaths. We can sit next to each other on the couch or somewhere else if you want.”

“Hmm. Mayhem and bed seems like a good combination.”

She shook her head, but he took her hand and she didn't fight him as he led her back to her bedroom.

* * *

“Mrs. Carver?”

Enid looked up from her screen, knowing that she shouldn't interrupt herself in the middle of her code since she would inevitably mess it up when she went back to it. She might be a genius—and that was debatable—but she was also a bit prone to mistakes if she looked away in the middle of a line. That was what any coder was like, wasn't it? That whole not looking while typing at mad speeds and doing crazy stuff that wasn't even real code, that was just Hollywood.

“What?”

“We've moved him to recovery if you'd like to come with us.”

She nodded, grabbing her bag and shoving her tablet in it as she rose. She would let Veronica know what was up as soon as she heard more, but recovery might be a good sign. Well, good and bad, as she knew that she couldn't protect this guy outside of running some digital hoops to keep people from knowing his condition. Officially, Giles Crosley had died in the ER, but that didn't mean that their killer would just accept that and be done with it.

Veronica had gone, so that might help sell it and Heather's raging text messages didn't hurt, though Enid was very glad they were texts and not screaming voice messages.

“How bad is it?” Enid asked, following the nurse into the elevator. “I mean, it had to be bad because I saw that car hit him and it was not even trying to stop, so... um...”

The nurse hit the button for the fourth floor, and Enid wondered how she managed to keep a manicure doing her job. Weren't nurses overworked and underpaid? They got stuck with the crap that doctors didn't want to do and some of it was gross and the rest was heavy lifting.

“It could have been worse, and he did suffer a lot of trauma and even some internal injuries. His right knee was shattered, and he suffered a concussion when his head hit the ground,” the nurse said. Enid looked at her name badge and frowned.

Barbie? Was that some kind of joke? Who let themselves be called Barbie in this day and age? That was like asking to be mocked for life. The only thing worse was Skipper, though most people had forgotten the teen version ever existed.

“So he won't be walking and... his brain can explode?”

Barbie laughed. “It's not quite that severe. If the pressure in his head was worse, we'd have to operate, but as it is, he seems stable.”

Enid nodded. She could handle stable. They'd have to deal with that no walking business later. “He won't be bloody anymore, will he?”

“What?”

Enid shrugged. “I don't do so well with blood. So... you know... just don't want to walk into his room and pass out because there's blood again.”

“You passed out before because of the blood?”

“Yes. No.” Enid swore. “I did very well when I got stabbed. And when I got shot. I still saved the day when I got shot. I just... I got a little woozy when I saw he was bleeding, okay? It's a valid reaction.”

Barbie just smiled. “I'm sure it is.”

Enid glared at her. “What, you think I'm lying about being shot or stabbed? Because I've got scars, I'll have you know. Ugly ones. Kind of cool because I'm like badge of honor except one was a creepy psycho killer marking me because he was obsessed with my brother and decided we were both 'his' and so it's not so cool, but I'm not as fragile as I might look or as pathetic as you probably think I am just because I have a minor blood... um... issue. Aversion. That's it. That's the word.”

Barbie held the elevator door open. “I just thought it was cute that you couldn't handle his blood but you could take your own.”

“Oh.”

Enid stepped out of the elevator and waited, then followed the other woman down the hall to the room. Barbie went in ahead of her, stopping at the foot of Cosplay's bed. Enid swallowed and went up to his side, looking for the chair.

He was clean, no blood, so there was that, at least. She sat down and set her bag next to the chair, not sure what to do now.

“You can take his hand,” Barbie told her. “You won't hurt him.”

Enid blinked. “Oh, I don't think I—”

“You are a very cute couple,” Barbie said. “And your husband is going to be fine. I've got to do my rounds, but if you need anything, you just hit that button.”

Enid nodded, then dug into her bag to try and remember just what name she'd hidden Cosplay under and if she'd been stupid enough to give him a wife. He needed next of kin, she knew that much, but had she really said that was _her?_ What the hell was she thinking?

Sure, it worked for Veronica and JD, but that was them. She was not related to this guy, and she wasn't married to him, either. Not engaged, not dating, not friends, not anything.

She pulled up the file and swore. Yeah, she'd stowed him under the name Carver, but she'd tried to make it so that Veronica was his mother.

How the hell had that gone so wrong on her?

* * *

Veronica looked over at JD, not entirely surprised to find he'd fallen asleep on her. She knew he wasn't lasting more than an hour or so each night, if that, and it had to catch up to him sooner or later. He was almost adorable like that, too, which shouldn't be possible but was, as he looked peaceful and younger than he was, and he had been cute when he wasn't psychotic.

She ran her fingers through his hair, flipping through the autopsy file and grimacing. She was glad he wasn't awake right now. He'd be saying something about how this one was familiar—and it was. True, it wasn't a double murder concealed as a gay suicide pact or death by poisoning, but she almost wanted to laugh at how obviously staged this one was.

The gun was in the wrong hand and the note was type-written. Oh, sure, that sort of thing happened, but even just one of those things should have gotten someone's attention and more investigation. JD could have done it with either hand, as he was ambidextrous, so it wasn't impossible that this man had used his other hand to kill himself—unlikely, not impossible—but combined with the note? 

Someone had been lazy as hell, and there was at least one clear murder here. Philips would hate her for it when she pointed it out, but he wouldn't be able to deny it, either. He'd say that one needed a closer look, too.

She set the file to the side, picking up the next one. She opened it, looking at the so-called accident and shaking her head. This one wasn't much better. No one who'd fallen down those stairs would have only had the broken neck as an injury. How had no one seen this? It was like they hadn't even looked.

She set the file on top of the other one. So far she was two for two, and she was starting to think she didn't even need to keep looking, but she was not going to stop just because she had two cases that might prove the theory.

She wondered if their killer had really tried. Were they just lucky or was the obvious nature of the staging a part of things? JD might have some theories on that, but she wasn't going to wake him now.

Of course, she said that and he started stirring anyway, making that awful noise in his sleep again.

She winced, knowing he wasn't really in pain now, but he had plenty of memories of it to draw on and a mind that didn't quit.

“I'm here,” she told him, shifting the files so she could add some physical comfort to her words. “I'm here. You're safe. Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now.”

His fingers tangled in her shirt, and she felt him trembling against her. “Please... don't... you said... you don't even like... don't... get off... please. You've done enough...”

“JD, listen to me. It's Veronica. You're not there anymore. You're here with me in our home, and you can rest safely because I have a gun and can protect you, okay?” She grimaced. “Oh, come on. Tell me it was lame. I know it was. I'm not great at comforting people, either.”

He shifted, pulling away from her. His freedom seemed to startle him, and he lifted his head, looking around. “Fuck.”

“If it helps any, I have proof you were right.”

He put a hand to his head. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Are you going to talk to me about it?”

He groaned and rolled over. “No. Fuck, no. You don't need to hear that shit.”

“JD, I don't want sordid details, but if you keep bottling it up, you're only going to get worse. And if you're doing it because you're ashamed—”

“She looked like Heather Chandler.”

“What?”

“The woman who won Bud's fucking game. She looked like Heather. Are you happy you asked now? Can you just... I need a fucking shower.”

Veronica frowned. “Are you saying... you think you let those glasses get switched on purpose because she reminded you of... another woman? One that—”

“Yes. No. I don't know. I can't tell if that woman was real or just something distorted in my head. The whole thing is fucked up... I don't—you know I didn't have any clear memories of that time before we met up with Eberhard again, but now... Now it's just so confused... I see moments and I don't know if they're real. I don't them to be. It... it was enough. The threat of it was. I swear he had me with it. He didn't have to let them do it.” JD put his head in his hands, breathing hard as he tried to get control again. “I hate this. I don't know what's real and what's not. And what if I did poison her because of some other nightmare? It doesn't excuse it. It doesn't make it better. It's just another dimension of fucked up that I didn't need.”

Veronica moved over to wrap her arms around him. “Do you remember what you said to me the other night when I dreamed about Richards?”

“That was different. You would never have actually done that with him.”

She shook her head. She hadn't wanted to sleep for days after that one, and she wouldn't have without JD there to help her remember what was true. Ironic, really, but he'd kept her grounded in reality instead of the torture her mind had created for her. 

“In the dream, it felt real,” she said as she leaned her head against his back. “I swear I'd gone off the deep end with him.”

“Because you went off it with me?” JD snorted. “You're stronger than that, and you know it. You'd never have fallen for his shit, and he wasn't good enough to fool you anyway.”

“He fooled me into thinking he was a good boss and that he only cared about me as a friend.”

“Because you wanted to see that,” JD said. “You weren't interested in him, so you ignored any feelings or moments that might have been more because you didn't see him that way. You don't have to feel bad about that, either. His unrequited feelings are not and were not your problem.”

“The idea of going along with his madness still sickens me,” she said. “And you give me too much credit thinking I wouldn't have.”

“You are so much stronger than you think. Me? I seem to find new shallowness to my weakness. It doesn't take much at all.”

She sighed. “You repressed that stuff to cope. Of course it's going to hit hard when it comes up again because you've never really dealt with it before.”

“I can cope with a damned case. I don't need or want to do this emotional bullshit. It's not me.”

She knew he prided himself on being detached, and he tried hard to be, but distant or not, he couldn't escape the trauma that he'd lived through. “Things affect us whether we acknowledge them or not. Someone who can shut that all off will just break harder later when it comes.”

He took her hands, turning to face her. “I should have been as broken as it gets. I'm over this and done. I was fine until that damned article.”

“Liar. It was unraveling when Brad killed those girls to get to me, and it just got worse from there. And I was a mess before then, so quit trying to pretend that I was unscathed and I'm some untouched goddess or something when we are both broken.”

“Hmm. I like the imagery of you as a vengeful goddess, actually. Suits you. Like you were in the boiler room. Your fury was... intoxicating. I liked it, even as much as we were fighting each other for our lives and everyone else's.”

“I could tell you liked it. You kissed me. More than once.”

“You were incredibly attractive despite the circumstances. I wanted you.”

She shook her head. “Don't flirt with me as a coping mechanism. Not now. That would make anything we might do just so fucking wrong.”

He nodded. “It would. Though I refuse to change my mind about you being attractive when you're strong and being the badass woman you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Help me figure out what this killer is up to, then.”

“Anything for Veronica the Vengeful.”

She almost smacked him. “Don't call me that.”

“But I want to make a shrine like Enid's and venerate you.”

“You're an asshole.”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “I am, but you love me anyway.”

“I'd love you more if you helped me with this case again.”

He nodded. “Okay, fine. Did I tell you I think that this is about revenge against Heather and that I don't think Giles was the real target for that hit and run?”


End file.
